


Mile Marker Extras 2: Electric Bugaloo

by frankiesin



Series: Say It With Neon [21]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: A Lot of Fetus!Panic this time, Fanfiction Inception Hell Yeah, Ficlet Collection, Mile Marker 17 Universe, Multi, Non-binary character, Post Split Panic, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 10:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14017800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankiesin/pseuds/frankiesin
Summary: More snippets of fic from the Mile Marker 17 universe. I wrote almost all of these in math class, because it's literally that easy.





	Mile Marker Extras 2: Electric Bugaloo

**Author's Note:**

> So, yesterday, we had to put my cat down because she had a clot in her artery and there was nothing that could be done to make her better. She was my cat for almost 15 years, and I love her and miss her a lot. Because of this, I'm dedicating this fic and the next installment of WSYICT to her, because she actually died the day after I finished it. 
> 
> I don't want this to be too sad of an introduction, because the MM17 universe is filled with enough angst as it is, but I felt like Holstein's death was something I needed to share with you guys. A lot of you knew her through my other social media. 
> 
> Anyway: this contains spoilers for things in the MM17 universe. If you don't want to be spoiled, don't read any section with a year after 2009. Enjoy!

**November 2, 2003; Las Vegas, Nevada.**

 

Ryan opened up her LiveJournal, ready to post an update to her latest Pete/Mikey story. She knew that the ship was a major rarepair, especially since most people didn’t know that My Chem and Fall Out Boy had played together before, but she didn’t care. She liked the dynamic between the two of them, and she related to Mikey a lot. He was tall and quiet and he was often overshadowed by the people around him. Ryan was like that. She had to be, because she didn’t want anyone to find out she was trans. 

 

She had a message from Jon, which wasn’t surprising. She and Jon had been messaging each other for months now. It had all started when she noticed him commenting on all of her old Wentzley fics. That had turned into a friendship, and if Ryan didn’t have a girlfriend, she’d say she had a bit of a crush on Jon. Nothing was going to come from it, though, because Ryan was sure that Sherri would love her even when Ryan came out to her, and they’d be together forever. 

 

_ 504planman: ur ryan_razorblade on myspace right? _

_ iam-clandestine: ya why _

_ 504planman: i think someone’s been reposting ur pics _

_ iam-clandestine: wtf who _

_ 504planman: www.skinny4lyfe.livejournal.com  _

 

Ryan frowned and clicked on the link. It opened up in a new window, and her eyes widened as the page loaded. It was one of those anorexia blogs, but it wasn’t just some skinny girl who hated herself and posted pictures where she called herself fat. No, this was worse, because there were pictures of multiple girls on here, and they were all skinny and none of them had their faces blurred out. All of them had been filtered black and white, as per usual with the anorexia blogs, and Ryan’s two pictures were no different. 

 

She remembered taking both of them. One was because people on her MySpace had been asking for a sexy picture, so she’d tied up one of her tanktops and hooked a finger in her skirt before biting her lip and taking the picture. The other one was from when Ryan had first bought a t-shirt dress. It had been really short, and she’d captioned it with  _ good thing i shaved my legs today XD _ . Neither of them belonged on an anorexia blog. 

 

_ iam-clandestine: i’m not anorexic btw _

_ 504planman: i kno _

_ 504planman: but that blogs been stealing pictures off of myspace and people have been harassing the owners _

_ iam-clandestine: shit _

_ iam-clandestine: is there any way to get them taken down????????? _

_ 504planman: idk but i dont think so :// _

_ iam-clandestine: what should i do? is there anything i /can/ do _

_ 504planman: ive seen ppl make psas about not glorifying eating disorders so mayb that _

 

Ryan let out a deep breath. This was bullshit. She wasn’t on the internet to be some kind of idol for people to look up to. She just wanted to post pictures where she looked like a hot girl and write fanfiction. She didn’t ask for this. 

 

_ 504planman: u dont have to do anything tho _

_ 504planman: its up to u and i’ll back whatever u do end up doing _

_ iam-clandestine: fuck it im making a post _

 

Ryan was also stubborn, and she didn’t want anyone who followed her (on MySpace or LiveJournal) to get the wrong idea. A lot of people thought she had an eating disorder. She didn’t. She was just naturally skinny, and she and her dad didn’t always have money for food. It happened, and Ryan tried not to make a big deal about it. 

 

She updated her fanfiction first, since that was done and it wouldn’t take as much time to sort out. Fanfiction was easy. Fiction, in general, was easy, because Ryan could hide herself and her self-esteem issues behind well crafted metaphors. She’d used Mikey as a metaphor for her own insecurity so many times that it wasn’t funny anymore. And she used Pete when she felt like the world was unfair to her. He was half-black, and she figured he had to put up with a lot of bullshit in the scene because of it. Ryan was trans, and people gave her shit for that as well. The two of them had a lot in common, and it was easy to get into Pete’s head. 

 

Ryan cracked her knuckles. Her fingers were sore from writing all day at school, and then typing it all up again once she got home and had wifi, but she opened a new post. She felt like she had to. 

 

_ hi  _

_ it’s ry obviously. i kno ur all here for the fic but sometimes life isn’t simple like that. there’s a blog i won’t link to that’s been taking girls’ photos and reposting them. it’s pro-anorexia, which is not something i support. we’ve all got body issues (i definitely do) but starving urself doesnt fix that. starving urself is what kills u.  _

_ and b4 anyone asks, i don’t have an eating disorder. i’m skinnier than i wish i was, actually. i want to be more than bone but sometimes genetics don’t allow that.  _

_ let me put it this way: we love mikey way bc he’s tall and has a great jawline, but we also love pete because he has cool hair and broad shoulders and an amazing smile. 2 very different men, but we fangirl over them both. same goes to u guys who hate urself. ur somebody’s pete wentz or mikey way. u might even be both to a special person out there _

_ <3 always _

_ -ry _

 

She posted it without reading it over, because she didn’t think that anyone would get on her for having spelling errors in such a serious post. Normally, whenever Ryan had to be serious, she posted to her personal LiveJournal and then linked it to her fanfiction one if she wanted attention. This was different, though, because it involved all of her internet personalities. She wanted to make sure everyone knew what she thought about the blog.

 

_ 504planman: that was really good _

_ iam-clandestine: im a writer for a reason i guess _

_ 504planman: im serious  _

_ 504planman: this is going to sound dumb but i think u could go places. like with writing or poetry or whatever _

_ iam-clandestine: im in a band??? _

_ 504planman: what!! how did i not know that!! do u have anything out _

_ iam-clandestine: no bc the last show we played was my high school’s talent show and we got in trouble bc the drummer wasn’t in high school yet _

_ 504planman: thats hilarious _

_ 504planman: i gotta do college shit :// but message me if u need anything ;) _

_ iam-clandestine: i still have a gf u ass _

_ 504planman: i kno _

 

* * *

 

**January 30, 2010; Los Angeles, California.**

 

Los Angeles was warm. Linda hadn’t been expecting that. It wasn’t hot the way El Paso had been, even in the depths of winter when the rest of the world was bundled up, but it was comfortable. Linda had to take off her jacket while she walked around downtown looking for a grocery store that wouldn’t be organic and over-priced. 

 

She was fine with organic shit. She’d actually prefer organic shit, because it was better for her and for the world, but she was on a bit of a budget and she couldn’t just walk into a Whole Foods and buy a six dollar loaf of bread. 

 

She started her new job today. She’d been at a different company in Chicago, but her boss had been a piece of shit and kept talking about sex around her, so Linda left. She wanted to move to Los Angeles anyway. She’d heard it was nice, and the Chicago winters were starting to drain her. Her parents had moved back to Texas, but they were in Houston now instead of El Paso, and so Linda was on her own. She didn’t need to stay in Chicago, so she didn’t. 

 

She’d considered going to Seattle, because there was a branch up there as well and it meant she’d get to hang out with Rochelle and Jon, but decided against it. Seattle was cold and rainy, and Linda was tired of the cold. She was a warm-weather girl. 

 

Linda looked down at her watch and frowned. She had an hour before she needed to go to her new job, and she still hadn’t gotten any groceries. She didn’t need a lot, just enough for the first few days here. Linda looked up, and there was another Whole Foods across the street. She shook her head. If she was going to be a California girl, then she’d have to get used to the California prices, apparently. 

 

It was a nice Whole Foods. The greeters were friendly, unlike people in Chicago who tended to glare at customers so they wouldn’t have to make small talk, but they gave her room to walk around. Texas had never been like that. Linda liked this. She didn’t feel like she was on her own, but she was still going at her own pace, and there weren’t any employees breathing down her neck and asking if she’d found everything okay. 

 

Linda hailed a taxi and took it back to her apartment instead of walking, because it would be a lot faster that way. She threw everything in her fridge aside from the turkey and kale sandwich she’d bought, and then grabbed her things for work. LA was weird. It didn’t have any mass transportation, and people just had to drive everywhere. 

 

She got in her car, a used 2005 Subaru she’d gotten while finishing college. It was red, and she used it for everything. It was a great car. 

 

Linda ended up being a little late, because LA traffic was even worse than she’d thought, and rushed through the building to where she was supposed to meet her new boss and start her orientation. She stumbled into the office and almost dropped her bag. Linda tossed her hair over her shoulder to make it look like she’d meant to do all of that. “Hi. Sorry I’m a little late; I didn’t realise how bad the traffic would be.”

 

“You’ll get used to it,” her boss said. He was a man about her age, with a thick, dark brown beard and ombre hair tied into a messy bun at the top of his head. He stood up and crossed over, extending his hand. “You’re Linda, correct?”

 

“Yep, that’s me,” Linda said. She knew that this job would involve a lot of networking, and interviewing, and talking to people. She’d put all of her debating experiences on her resume to get it, including how she started up a GSA at both of her high schools. She smiled. “Where am I starting?”

 

“Well,” her boss said. He frowned for a moment. “I have to ask.  _ Are _ you queer? Because I’ve heard rumours, and looking over your resume, it seems like you are, but you don’t… you don’t have the look.”

 

“I am a lesbian, yes,” Linda said, making sure to correct him. There was a difference between being queer and being a lesbian. Linda was firmly in the lesbian category, because she knew a lot of people thought she was a straight woman, and she wanted to make it clear that she was not, and would not, be interested in men. “We can look like anyone.”

 

“I know, I’m sorry, that was so backwards of me,” he said, and laughed. Linda looked past him and saw that he’d scrawled his name, Jeremy, onto a blackboard tied to his desk. “I’m just an ally to the queer community, I know I have a lot to learn. But, if you wouldn’t mind, we do have a need for someone to talk to and interview a few pop stars who’ve come out recently. We’re working on a  _ Many Faces of the Movement _ article.”

 

“Who exactly are you talking to?” Linda asked. If it was Brendon Urie or Dallon Weekes, she wouldn’t do that. Things were still awkward there. Things were awkward with Rochelle and Jon, too, but at least the two of them weren’t selling out on what had made them famous in the first place. They were still real. Dallon and Brendon were just putting on a show at this point. She smiled. “I have some connections in the music industry, so I might just be your gal.”

 

“I like that,” Jeremy said. He patted Linda on the shoulder. “And I know about your connections, but we’re going more pop and less punk. That’s not this company’s image. We’re hip and current, and yes, we do get political, but we’re not about politics. We’re about people.”

 

“Works for me,” Linda said, even though she knew she couldn’t be apolitical even if someone was holding a gun to her head. She needed this job, and even though it felt like a bunch of hippies had started up a journalism company, it was better than anywhere else she could go. 

 

* * *

 

**March 2, 2007; Hayden, Colorado.**

 

Panic! at the Disco lead a bit of a revolution in the music industry. They were one of the first openly queer bands out there, with members who didn’t give a fuck about how the world saw them. Dallon was proud to be a part of it, but they hadn’t joined Panic! to be a transgender or a gay icon. They joined the band because they loved music, and the activism just followed. 

 

There was a joke amongst emo kids that one of the requirements to get signed by Fuelled By Ramen was that one of the members had to be openly not straight. Panic! had four bisexuals and Dallon, the token gay. Three of them were trans as well, so it was clear where the joke started. Then, between their first and second album, Hayley Williams of Paramore came out as bisexual. 

 

It was awesome. She and Rochelle were already hailed as the queens of emo, and when both of them turned out to be bisexual, it just made things better. People started showing up at Paramore shows with pride flags and gay shirts for themselves and for the band. 

 

Hayley’s coming out was professional, and emotional. She’d done it through the band’s MySpace page, leaving a long letter explaining how she’d figured everything out and why she’d waited to come out for so long. Dallon could sympathise with her. She was from Tennessee, and grew up in a world where being gay, or being out of the norm, was dangerous. But she was an adult now, and she had her family and her band’s support, and Panic! made sure to throw a bi flag around Brendon’s shoulders at their next show. 

 

Gabe Saporta and William Beckett were completely different, however. Dallon was thriving. They were in the cabin, refreshing LiveJournal while Jon and Spencer played air hockey in the background. Dallon didn't know where the guys had gotten the air hockey table from, but they weren’t too worried about that. 

 

They were more interested in William, who’d recently come out as non-binary in an interview with the rest of their band, and Gabe, who had apparently come out as bi or gay (no one knew yet) during a show last night. The two were also dating, which the internet had predicted because fangirls were terrifying (and Rochelle was a good example despite what she said). There were images of Gabe pulling William onstage and kissing them, but they were all very low quality. Dallon wasn’t surprised. It was hard to get a good picture at a show with a shitty camera. 

 

“What are you laughing at?” Brendon said. He flipped over the back of the couch and landed on Dallon’s legs. 

 

Dallon winced. “FBR is still flaming, apparently.”

 

Brendon’s eyes widened. “Ohh, what happened? Did Pete drop another dick pic?”

 

“You’re way too interested in Pete’s dick,” Dallon said. They turned the laptop around. “Remember how Travie’s been dating Katy Perry and she wrote that stupid song?”

 

“The  _ You’re so Gay _ one?” Brendon asked. “Wasn’t that also about Pete?”

 

“Probably, but Gabe claimed it for himself and then sang  _ I Kissed a Boy _ before pulling Bill on stage and coming out,” Dallon said. They reached out and ran their finger over Brendon’s beard. “Or at least that’s what I’ve gotten from the internet so far. I’d call one of them, but the signal out here is horrible and I can’t get anything.”

 

“That’s… that’s one way to come out,” Brendon said. He grabbed Dallon’s wrist. “Oh! Shit, there’s a YouTube video now!”

 

Brendon twisted around in his seat. “Guys, come here, Gabe’s gay online now!”

 

“That’s not news,” Rochelle said. 

 

“No, like, for real this time,” Brendon said. “Before Dallon’s laptop dies.”

 

* * *

 

**July 19, 2013; Los Angeles, California.**

 

“Why didn’t you just get rid of the car?” Ryan asked. He was sitting on the hood of his own car, wearing RayBans and silently judging Dallon. The Brobecks van had finally given up, on the side of Manhattan Avenue. There were hipsters everywhere, and Dallon was pretty sure that the last couple of guys who’d walked past them were YouTubers of some kind. 

 

“It meant too much,” Dallon said. They ran their thumb over the top of the rearview mirror. There was no chance or reviving the Brobecks van, but Dallon didn’t want to get rid of it. It was everything, and it was a huge part of what had made Panic! possible in the first place. “I mean, shit, this was my first car.  _ Our  _ first car, really.”

 

“Yeah,” Ryan said, nodding. He smirked. “Remember when you tried to backflip off of it and broke your foot?”

 

“Shut up, I was young and an idiot,” Dallon said. They’d done it to try and impress Ryan specifically, but they weren’t going to tell him that. Dallon didn’t have any romantic feelings for the guy now, and they were just friends. They didn't need to give Ryan anything else to roast them about. 

 

Ryan laughed. “So. What are we going to do with it now?”

 

“I don’t know,” Dallon said. “I don’t want to just scrap it… I think the fans would kill me.”

 

“That’s so weird, that some of your fans are obsessed with your fucking minivan,” Ryan said, shaking his head. “I mean, yeah, it’s bright purple and it’s been with the band since the beginning, but it’s a  _ car _ . Why do they care?”

 

“Probably because it makes us easier to spot,” Dallon said. They frowned at the van for a moment. “We should definitely put it somewhere, then. I don’t want any stalkers.”

 

“We could immortalise it somewhere,” Ryan offered. “Maybe in Vegas, since that’s where you guys were from.”

 

“But the car’s not from Vegas, and neither is the band,” Dallon said. It was odd, how everyone knew that four out of five of the members came from Vegas, but no one called Panic! a Vegas-based band. They were from Chicago, even though they’d really only been there for about eighteen months. There was a lot of the band that came from Las Vegas, though, and when Dallon listened to their older songs, they could feel the Vegas in the music. Rochelle wouldn’t have written things the way she did if she’d grown up in Chicago. 

 

They sighed. “But I think you’re right. It’s a Vegas car, even if it’s from Utah.”

 

“It’s definitely flashy enough,” Ryan said. He looked up from the car. “Want me to call a tow truck? Or are you gonna do that?”

 

“I’ll do it,” Dallon said. “It’s my car, and I should probably take it back to the house before we decide to build a monument or whatever.”

 

Ryan made a face. “Don’t. Don’t actually build a monument to the car. That’s weird.”

 

“I won’t,” Dallon said. They grinned and pulled out their phone. “That’d make me a fangirl, though, wouldn’t it.”

 

* * *

 

**November 19, 2006; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Linda took her first modelling job when she was nineteen years old and in her second year of college. It was near the end of the semester, right before Thanksgiving break, and she was using it as part of her excuse to not go home. She’d gotten tired of her parent’s and her family’s homophobia, and she’d rather spend her break working and staying on campus. She could go over to the Orzechowskis house if she got really lonely. Sarah’s parents loved her. 

 

She and the other nine girls met up at a studio downtown, on the second floor of a photography business. The girls were moved to a room in the back with a few couches to hang out on while they waited for their turn in hair and makeup. The shoot was for a jacket company. Linda had looked at their website, and their cheapest jackets were around three hundred dollars. She would never be able to wear them in real life. 

 

Linda looked around at the other nine girls. She felt underdressed, but also like she was wearing too much . She was in a light blue button down and a pair of jeans. It was her usual job interview outfit, but the other girls looked like they were about to go out on dates. The white girls were all spray tanned to the point that they looked like tangerines, and Linda was pale. Linda felt like she’d walked into the wrong photoshoot, but it was too late to back out. 

 

“Linda Ignarro?” someone called out. Linda looked up to see an angry looking woman with a microphone and a clipboard. She raised her hand slowly. The woman frowned harder. “Well, come on, time to fix your face.”

 

Linda got up, and she was lead into the next room, which was lit up like downtown during the holidays. She was pushed into a chair, and a man with very shiny skin and bleached hair descended upon her. Linda didn’t wear a lot of makeup. It wasn’t because she was trying to be different, but makeup took a lot of time to put on and take off, and she thought that her face wasn’t too bad to look at bare. 

 

Her usual routine was light foundation, mascara (she had blonde eyelashes, so mascara was pretty much a requirement), and then lipgloss or maybe lipstick if she felt fancy. Sometimes she wore eyeliner, but she was always afraid of looking like a scene girl if she put too much on, so she tried to stay away from that. 

 

This guy, however, put a bunch of stuff on Linda’s face, and made her feel like she had no idea what she was doing. There was primer, and then a first foundation layer, and then correction shit that was greenish and made her feel like Shrek for a moment. And then concealer under her eyes, and then more concealer under her eyes because she was a pre-law student and she rarely had time to sleep. Then powder, then bronzer, then more bronzer that went all the way down to her neck. Then he pulled off half of her eyebrows, and then almost stabbed her with mascara. 

 

There was more, but Linda was too overwhelmed by it all to pay attention. The guy explained what he was doing while he did it, but there were a lot of things coming out of his mouth that Linda didn’t follow. 

 

He went to her hair next, which was naturally wavy. She’d put it in a ponytail, because Chicago was windy, and he took it out before straightening it and then re-curling it again. Linda didn’t get it, but she went with it because she was getting paid for this so she couldn’t complain too much. 

 

“And you’re done!” the guy said, giving Linda some very gay jazz hands. “Go show yourself off, you look amazing!”

 

“Thanks,” Linda said, because the last time a man’s compliment had phased her she’d been 13 and someone had been cat-calling her from a car. She looked herself over in the mirror, and decided that yes, she did look amazing, but that he didn’t need to do all that stuff to her hair. She smiled. “It looks really good.”

 

“I know,” he said. He squeezed her shoulder. “It’s my job to make women look good. Now go on, so I can get the rest of your friends looking just as flawless.”

 

Linda moved to the next room, where she was given an outfit to change into. The jeans were designer, but they looked the same as the pair she was already wearing, and she was also given a plan black tank top. Linda looked at herself in the mirror, from the neck down, and thought that she could be any woman in her twenties. There was nothing individual about her right now, but she hadn’t put the jacket on yet. 

 

The jacket was tan and went down to her knees. She didn’t buckle it up because she didn’t know if she was supposed to or not, and instead slipped on the ankle boots she’d been given and walked out onto the set. She was immediately pulled over to stand in front of a fake winter scene. Linda thought to herself that this jacket wasn’t thick enough to survive a Chicago winter, but that it did look good. 

 

Posing was easier than she’d expected. There was a lot of standing in awkward positions, but Linda just pretended she was back in her dorm with Sarah, and they were messing around with Sarah’s camera. Sarah was MySpace famous, and the two girls often abused all of the filters she’d collected over the years. It was fun, and it kept Linda from getting annoyed with the photographers. They were all nice, and Linda enjoyed it. 

 

“Have you done this before?” one of them asked. 

 

Linda gave him a tiny shake of her head before changing her pose and giving the camera a look that hopefully read as  _ I’m cozy, why don’t you get cozy with me _ . She was pretty sure that was what straight people were into, but mostly, she was guessing. 

 

The camera man nodded. “Wouldn’t have guessed that. You’re a natural in front of the camera.”

 

Linda allowed herself a small smile. Again, his compliment didn’t phase her, but it was nice to know she wasn’t completely fucking up. She had no idea what she was doing, or if the photos would come out okay, but at least these three camera guys approved. They weren’t the clothing line or the magazine that would post the pictures, but they were something. 

 

As soon as she was finished, she handed the coat back over and stepped back into the little changing room area to get into her normal clothes. She’d left her real winter coat out in the first room. She waved to the camera guys on her way out. “Thanks, it was fun!”

 

“You did wonderful!” one of them called back, and went back to the model he was shooting. Linda knew she wasn’t a professional, and she didn’t want to go into modelling full-time, but this was fun. She could do this in her spare time, to make up for the tuition costs she couldn’t cover with her internship. 

 

Linda smiled to herself as she walked out of the building and pulled out her phone. She dialled Sarah’s number. 

 

“Hey, Lin, I’m between clients, what’s up?” Sarah said. She was in beauty school, which was how Linda had heard about the modelling gig in the first place. “Did you finish already?”

 

“Yeah. It was more fun than I expected,” Linda said. She zipped up her jacket and hopped over a large pile of snow in the middle of the sidewalk. “When do you get out of school? I could pick us up something to eat, if you want.”

 

“Ooh, one of the girls at school said there’s a really good pad thai place down by the Navy Pier if you want to meet me there? I get off in about an hour,” Sarah said. 

 

“Sounds good to me. Text me the address?” Linda said. She could swing by her dorm and decide if she wanted to keep the makeup or not in an hour. She was close enough to campus to do that. “I love you, and I’ll see you there.”

 

“Love you too, beautiful,” Sarah said. She laughed into the phone. “I can’t believe I’m dating a model.”

 

Linda laughed back. “Well, believe it, because apparently it’s a thing now.”

 

* * *

 

**May 5, 2001; Las Vegas, Nevada.**

 

“They won’t let us play,” Ryan said. He dropped down on the couch between Trevor and Spencer. “It’s bullshit.”

 

“Is it because Spencer’s a girl?” Brent asked. He was close enough that Spencer could kick him. Brent winced and grabbed his ankle. “Ow. What the hell, dude?”

 

“It’s not because Spencer’s a girl; it’s because she’s not in high school,” Ryan said. He rolled his eyes and slumped down into the couch cushions. He flipped his hair out of his face. “They told me that it’s a high school talent show, so we can only have high school students perform, and that we could just get a replacement drummer if we really wanted to perform that badly.”

 

“Yeah  _ right _ ,” Trevor said. He looked around Ryan to Spencer and smiled at her. She knew that Trevor had a crush on her, but she was ignoring it. Spencer didn’t like Trevor back, but he was their guitarist and Spencer didn’t want to make things awkward in the band by rejecting him. Trevor was cool, but Spencer didn’t want to kiss him. He’d get over it eventually, but for now she just had to play dumb. 

 

Ryan nodded. “Yeah. We’re not replacing Spencer. She’s irreplaceable.”

 

“Thanks Ryan,” Spencer said, and ignored Trevor. She really didn’t know what to do about him. There was no easy way to let a guy down. Spencer crossed her arms over her chest, and then uncrossed them because they made her boobs more obvious. “So what are we going to do? We can’t  _ not _ perform. What if there isn’t a talent show next year?”

 

“Carpe diem,” Ryan said, grinning. “We’re gonna seize the fucking day.”

 

Brent raised his eyebrows. “We’re sneaking her in?”

 

“Hell yeah,” Ryan said. “We’re not Pet Salamander without the world’s greatest drummer tapping out the beats.”

 

“We’re gonna win for sure,” Trevor said. He leaned over Ryan and gave Spencer a high five. Spencer high fived him back. She was excited to play her first show and she didn’t think that high fives counted as being flirtatious. 

 

“How are you getting in, though? Won’t the people in charge of the talent show realise you’re not in high school?” Brent asked. 

 

Spencer looked at Ryan. “You  _ did _ think about that, right? In your  _ amazing  _ plan?”

 

“Of course. Don’t doubt me,” Ryan said, rolling his eyes again. Spencer didn’t doubt him, because Ryan was a genius but he also lived in his own head a lot and not in the real world. “The talent show is in the theatre, and there’s a side door that goes right outside in there. The theatre kids use it when they’re doing set painting shit, and it opens from the inside. Whenever we’re about to go on, I’ll open the door and let you in.”

 

Spencer frowned. “So I have to sit outside for an hour while you guys have fun inside? No offense, Ry, but that plan sucks.”

 

“We’re the third act,” Ryan said. “You won’t be out there for long.”

 

“I better not be,” Spencer said, giving him her best bitch face. “It gets hot out there.”

 

“You won’t, promise,” Ryan said. He stuck out his pinky finger, and the two friends shook on it. Ryan turned to the boys. “You guys good with that too?”

 

Brent and Trevor nodded. Ryan moved back up into a normal sitting position. “Well, then, that settles it. We’ve got a plan, and we’re gonna ace this talent show. Hell yeah.”

 

“Hell yeah,” Spencer echoed, and gave her band members a bunch of group high fives. 

 

* * *

 

**July 28, 2011: San Diego, California.**

 

Ashley was in San Diego with her dad, and they were standing inside the airport. Ashley was holding a sign that read “JOSH!!” and her dad was on the phone with her mom. She was focused on the people coming out of the departures section, looking for a man with dark brown hair and a Party Poison jacket. Josh had promised to wear that, so that he’d be easier to spot in the airport. 

 

Ashley had dressed herself up a little like Jet Star. The whole vibe of Danger Days was cool, but Ashley didn’t think she could get very far in an airport with a faux raygun strapped to her hip. She could put on the whole costume tomorrow, when she and Josh went to ComicCon together. 

 

“Ash!” Josh called out, and Ashley turned in time to see him jogging over from the other end of the hallway. Ashley tapped her dad on the shoulder, and he waved at Josh. Josh waved back and then pulled Ashley into a hug. “Hi, nice to meet you in person finally!”

 

“I know, right?” Ashley laughed. She looked down at the little suitcase Josh had with him. “That’s all you brought?”

 

“No,” Josh said. He rolled his eyes. “I know we’re driving up to LA at the end of this, but it didn’t make sense to bring all of my stuff with me to ComicCon. My parents are shipping the rest of the stuff to LA for when we go up there, and either AJ or Colin will hold onto it if it gets there early. AJ’s already got my drum set so that Colin won’t try and steal it. I don’t want to lose my  _ only _ kit. That would suck.”

 

“Doesn’t Colin have enough drums?” Ashley asked. She wasn’t involved with House of Heroes the way Josh was. He was a professional groupie at this point, and was moving to LA so that he could fill in for Colin while the drummer focused on his new family for a while. Josh had known all of the members since before they’d been signed to FBR, and he’d grown up in the same city as them. Ashley wasn’t surprised by the move. Josh’s band lived in LA now, so there was no reason for him to stick around in Columbus. 

 

Josh nodded as the three of them headed towards the baggage claim. “Yeah, but it’s a drummer thing. We get a bit obsessive.”

 

“Do you think your sister’s ever going to move out west?” Ashley asked. “I kind of want to meet her, since we have the same name and everything.”

 

Josh’s sister was about four years older than Ashley. It had been awkward for a few months when Ashley told Josh that she wasn’t twenty, but instead sixteen, and she’d worried that their online friendship would be over before they could meet in real life. She considered him one of her best friends, and she’d known him for almost five years, and she didn’t want to lose him. Josh had been upset at first that Ashley had lied about her age, but he got over it. A lot of people lied on the internet. Josh had lied to get into a few HoH shows before he’d been eighteen. 

 

“She’s doing her poetry stuff with Jesse, so probably not yet,” Josh said. He reached out and grabbed his other suitcase from the conveyor belt. “So, when did you and your dad get here?”

 

“Yesterday,” Ashley’s dad said. Apparently he was done talking to her mom. “It was a nice flight, and the airport was less crowded than it is today.”

 

Josh grinned. “Yeah. I think all the nerds are descending on San Diego now.”

 

“Hopefully they won’t all descend on the hotel we’re staying at,” her dad said. The hotel they’d gotten was closer to the convention center than to the airport, but it wasn’t right on the convention center. Josh was staying in the same room as Ashley and her dad, because it didn’t make sense for him to have his own room. Ashley’s dad was there because she was sixteen and Josh was twenty-two, and Ashley’s parents didn’t want her alone in a hotel with a grown man they’d never met. 

 

Ashley understood where they were coming from, but she wasn’t dating Josh, and besides. She’d already lost her virginity. If they were trying to save that, they were a little too late. 

 

The hotel was crowded when the three of them arrived. Some of the people were already wandering around in full costume, but most of the people were concerned looking business people. Ashley thought it was hilarious. Her brothers were more interested in anime and conventions than she was, but they usually went to the local conventions in San Jose and didn’t stay in hotels. 

 

Ashley loved it. The hotel was chaotic, like riding the subway home from a concert while everyone was still dressed up. 

 

“I’m clearly out of touch,” Ashley’s dad said. “I don’t know who half of these people are supposed to be.”

 

“It’s okay, I don’t know either,” Ashley said. She patted her dad on the arm and pressed the button for the elevator. “I’m here for Josh, mostly. And because I want to meet Gerard Way and he’s here this weekend.”

 

“Oh, we need to get meet and greet tickets,” Josh exclaimed. He pulled out his phone and started tapping away while the three of them were on the elevator. He looked up long enough to not run into a wall, and then was back to getting the tickets while Ashley’s dad lead them back to the room. 

 

There were two beds and a pull out couch, because the room was huge and supposed to be for people on business trips. Ashley’s dad didn’t care, because he didn’t want to make things awkward and force someone to share a bed with a stranger. 

 

Josh looked up from his phone. “Got the tickets. Oh, should I take the couch?”

 

“You can have one of the beds if you want,” Ashley’s dad said. “No one’s been assigned anything yet.”

 

“I’m fine with the couch,” Josh said. “I’ve definitely slept on worse when following bands on tour before.”

 

“And you  _ want  _ to follow Panic! at the Disco when they tour around this fall?” Ashley’s dad asked her, giving her a look. “You know you’ll have to sleep on the floor, right? Your mom and I are not paying for a hotel room every night.”

 

“I know I would,” Ashley said. She sat down on the other end of the couch. “And I have friends in a lot of the cities I’d go to. I can stay with them.”

 

“I don’t think that’s going to convince him,” Josh said. He tapped Ashley’s arm. “Our time’s on the tickets. I’ll print them out tonight, but I can text you a copy if you want it yourself.”

 

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll just take the copy you print,” Ashley said. She was excited. Gerard Way was awesome, not just as a musician. He was a really cool artist, and Ashley was looking forward to meeting him tomorrow. She didn’t know if she’d get a picture or not, or even if she’d get to see My Chem play live, but she’d count this as her meeting the band anyway. There were rumours that his brother would be there with him, and if he was, then Ashley would be meeting half of the band. She’d just make sure not to mention the fact that she still wrote fanfiction about Gerard’s little brother having sex with Pete Wentz. Gerard Way didn’t need to know that. 

 

* * *

 

**January 4, 2004; Las Vegas, Nevada.**

 

So Ryan had a crush. She was trying to hide it, because she was still getting over Sherri, but it was hard to ignore. She broke into a stupid grin every time his url showed up on her screen, and sometimes she giggled whenever he messaged her something cute.

 

It was pointless. Jon knew that Sherri had cheated on Ryan and that Ryan was taking it hard. He’d seen her posts ( _ i’m a better kiss/fuck/lover than any  _ boy _ you’ll ever meet. oh honey i know i’m on your mind when you’re in bed _ ) and they’d talked about it through IM. Ryan didn’t mention that she’d been thinking about Jon a lot more. She didn’t want to come off as creepy. 

 

There was also the issue of Ryan being transgender. Jon had only dated one person, a girl, and of the five people he’d kissed, including his ex-girlfriend, only two of them were guys and only one counted towards him potentially being bisexual. Ryan didn't like her chances. Straight guys didn’t see her as anything but a dude in a dress. Jon was a good person, and he’d said nice things about her MySpace photos, but those were heavily edited and Ryan knew he had a breaking point somewhere. It would probably be her voice. 

 

She bit her lower lip, picking at some skin with her teeth. 

 

_ iam-clandestine: this is going to sound dumb but hear me out _

_ 504planman: it can’t be weirder than that one au where pete was the son of reality tv stars and andy was a farmer in wyoming _

_ 504planman: why the hell was andy in wyoming in the first place _

_ iam-clandestine: i didn’t realise there were farms in wisconsin _

_ iam-clandestine: but this isn’t a fic thing it’s an irl thing _

_ 504planman: no you cannot set your ex’s hair on fire that’s still illegal _

 

Ryan muffled her giggle behind her hand. There it was. She was hopelessly crushing on a guy almost 2000 miles away from her. They’d probably never meet, and she was really just being ridiculous. Ryan needed to figure out a way to channel her feelings toward Jon back at Pete. Pete was clearly unattainable. He was Chicago’s Hardcore King, for fuck’s sake. Ryan knew he’d never look twice at her for serious girlfriend material. 

 

Jon was just a guy from Chicago. He was getting an associate’s degree in photography because he didn’t want to spend all of his time and money in college, and then he was going to go photograph bands and people and whatever else he could. He was a normal guy, with normal dreams, and Ryan didn’t fit into all that. 

 

_ iam-clandestine: i’m not doing that u fucker _

_ 504planman: good! bc it’s illegal and i don’t want to hear about u in jail _

_ iam-clandestine: would you bail me out _

_ 504planman: i already gave over all my money to college _

_ 504planman: i’d say yeah otherwise _

_ iam-clandestine: i guess i can live with that lol _

_ 504planman: so what’s your dumb idea (not that i think ur ideas are dumb i’m just trying to keep us on track) _

 

Ryan took a deep breath. This was the plunge. This was giving Jon a part of her that she’d never given anyone else on the internet. She was scared, but she figured she’d have to start somewhere. Ryan trusted Jon. Even if he didn’t see her as a girl after this, he’d still try to treat her like one. Ryan could settle for that. 

 

_ iam-clandestine: i know you see me as a girl but i don’t and it’s mostly bc of my voice _

_ 504planman: i’ve never heard ur voice _

_ iam-clandestine: i kno. so, hear me out, what if we skyped? not right now, bc my dad’s home but later once he goes out? i trust u _

_ 504planman: i trust u 2. ur cool and i’m fine with waiting _

_ 504planman: while we wait, may i send ur attention here [link] _

 

Ryan furrowed her eyebrows and clicked the link. Her eyes widened as the image loaded and she realised what it was. It was fanart, of her first Petekey fic, and it wasn’t the best art she’d seen but Jon had drawn it himself and he’d labelled Pete as “not Pete Wentz” and Mikey as “not Mikey Way” just to be a fucking weirdo. 

 

It was adorable. Ryan grinned so hard her cheeks hurt, and then she made a new folder on her laptop, called it  _ fic art (holy shit) _ and saved Jon’s picture there. She had two other pieces of fanart elsewhere, and she moved them in as well, just so it would look like something other than a miniature shrine to Jon’s attempt at art. 

 

_ 504planman: i know it’s not great; there’s a reason im in college for photography and not drawing _

_ iam-clandestine: i think it’s amazing _

_ 504planman: you don’t have to say that, u kno _

_ 504planman: i definitely didn’t do the fic justice _

_ iam-clandestine: i thought you didn’t ship petekey o.O _

_ 504planman: don’t o.O me  _

_ 504planman: and i don’t, but i know a great work of fiction when i see it _

 

Ryan wondered how weird it would be for her to screenshot that and add it to her folder. She decided against it, because it wasn’t the first time Jon had complimented her work, and she knew from the number of hits she got that she was a good writer. She was going to college to be a writer, for fuck’s sake, she knew she had talent. It just felt better coming from Jon than from anyone else on the internet. 

 

* * *

 

**October 7, 1994; Belleville, New Jersey.**

 

“I fucking love Star Trek,” Mikey said. Gee looked at him weirdly. Mikey pushed his glasses up his nose. “What? It’s awesome.”

 

“I can’t believe you turned out to be a punk and a geek,” Gee said. She lit a cigarette and let Mikey have some of it. They were inside as usual, sitting in Gee’s room while Gee drew and Mikey avoided doing his homework. He was mentally exhausted by high school. Being a guy in a girl’s body only made that worse.

 

Mikey frowned. “I wish we lived in the Star Trek universe. It seems way better than this one.”

 

“You could always write fanfiction about it,” Gee said. Mikey made a face. He knew Gee was subscribed to a few fanzines, but they were all for comics and they were run by a bunch of girls. Gee scribbled something into the corner of her notebook. “It’s really interesting. Some of it is fucking weird, but a lot of fanfiction deals with being gay and homophobia and the lack of women in sci-fi and comics--”

 

“Gee,” Mikey said, cutting her off. “Fanfiction is for girls. I’m not a girl.”

 

“Men can write fanfiction,” Gee said. She looked like she was about to start rambling on about how gender didn’t matter and that gender roles were outdated, so Mikey quickly started talking. He’d heard those rants far too many times, and they’d gotten redundant. 

 

“I’m not a good writer,” Mikey said. “So I don’t think anyone would want to publish my shit.”

 

Gee nodded. “Okay. I don’t agree with you, but I won’t make you do anything you don’t’ want to. I tried writing fanfiction once, but it wasn’t very good. I’m starting to think that words aren’t my thing and that I should just stick to art.”

 

Mikey rolled his eyes, but Gee didn’t see him. She was back to her art. Mikey picked up the nearest comic book and started flipping through it. He wasn’t getting any homework done. He wasn’t sure why he’d thought otherwise. 

 

* * *

**September 8, 2000; Las Vegas, Nevada.**

 

Ryan stared at herself in the mirror. She looked… wrong. Her hair was short but it didn’t make her look like a dyke, just like a man. Her hands were big and long, just like her face, and her chest was completely flat. There were guys in her grade with more cleavage than her. She knew, deep down in her soul, that she was a girl, but she didn’t look like one. She looked like an ugly teenage boy. 

 

This had all started when Ryan’s girlfriend showed off her bra. Instead of being turned on by a half naked girl, Ryan was more interested in what she’d look like in a bra. She knew she wouldn’t get a period or have to worry about getting pregnant, because she had a dick unlike the other girls she knew, but she wanted boobs. She wanted to slink through the women’s underwear section at Target, embarrassed beyond belief at the thought of being seen buying a  _ bra _ , and she wanted to get some bras with cute little designs on them. 

 

Ryan knew she couldn’t do that, though. If she walked into the women’s underwear section at Target she’d be asked to leave. She didn’t look like a girl. No one was going to see her as such, or treat her as such. 

 

Ryan sat down on the bathroom floor and she cried. She bit into her lower lip so that she wouldn’t make any noise. She didn’t want her dad to hear her and get mad. She knew, if he ever found out that Ryan was a girl, that he’d hurt her. Ryan had a lot of secrets that she kept from her dad, but this was going to be more important than anything else she’d hidden. She knew that being bisexual was bad enough on its ow. She didn’t want to find out how he’d react to her being a transvestite as well. 

 

* * *

 

**September 20, 2000: Las Vegas, Nevada.**

 

Ryan made herself a LiveJournal, using a quote from Pete Wentz as her username. There were enough people out there who knew about Arma Angelus that there was an online community for them, and Ryan wanted in. She made her profile say she was a girl, but she didn’t mention that she was a transgender girl. Not a transvestite. According to people who’d been their right gender for a while, transvestite was outdated and a little insulting. Ryan didn’t want to insult herself. 

 

She set up her profile and then joined the only Arma RPF group that existed. Ryan knew that RPF was frowned upon in fandom communities. It was weird, to ship two people together and write about their love lives. Ryan didn’t see her Pete and Andy as the real Pete and Andy. They were fictional versions of the boys, based on their real life counterparts. 

 

The fic was only a few thousand words long, and it wasn’t porn or anything special that would get Ryan noticed in this new forum. She didn’t post it to her profile because she didn’t want that to be the first thing people saw when they looked at her. It was going to be between her and the other girls in the RPF forum. No one else.

 

The plot was simple: Andy and Pete weren’t in a band, but were instead doing other things to make ends meet. They met at a Metallica show, fell in love, and then Pete left without actually asking Andy for his phone number. There was enough of a cliff-hanger that Ryan could extend it if anyone asked her too, but it was conclusive enough that she didn’t  _ have _ to make a sequel if she didn’t feel like it. 

 

It didn’t take long before Ryan was getting comments on her submission. Most of them were generic comments like  _ cute _ ,  _ i loved it!! _ ,  _ ohhhh that’s adorbz _ , but there was one person asking for a follow up, and that was enough for Ryan. She grinned and opened up her fanfiction notebook. She had three notebooks: one for school, one for poetry, and one for fanfiction. 

 

Ryan didn’t know what kind of writer she would be when she grew up, but she was going to write for a living. She was good enough at it that she knew she could make it, even if she had to be a journalist for a few years while she made herself an icon in the writing world. Ryan wasn’t going to write fanfiction forever and end up like the 30 and 40 year old women who were still writing Spirk coffee shop AUs while they took their kids to school. Ryan liked fanfiction, but it wasn’t going to become her life. 

 

She decided that Pete wouldn’t see Andy again until he moved to Milwaukee and started going to a new coffee shop. Ryan rolled her eyes at herself. She wasn’t going to turn this into a coffee shop AU. Those were so boring. She was only having them re-meet in a coffee shop because she knew that Andy liked to hang out in those. She made it a vegan coffee shop, too, one with a bakery that had kickass muffins that Pete fell in love with much like he’d fallen in love with Andy. 

 

She didn’t finish it before Spencer called her. Ryan picked up the phone without hesitating. “Hey Spence. What’s up?”

 

“Wanna come over and practice?” Spencer asked. Ryan looked at her calendar. They weren’t supposed to have a practice session today. It was the band’s day off. 

 

Ryan frowned. “Are Brent and Trevor there already?”

 

“Trevor’s here, and Brent’s probably on his way. But you know Brent,” Spencer said. She didn’t have to say the rest, that Brent lived on his own schedule and sometimes didn’t even show up to the real band practices. 

 

Ryan knew better than to leave Spencer alone with Trevor, though. Spencer had told Ryan over the summer that she suspected Trevor had a crush on her, and Ryan knew she was right. Spencer was also pretty much only into girls, and there was no easy way to tell Trevor that without him potentially outing Spencer to the school. Spencer was in eighth grade. She didn’t need that kind of stress. 

 

“Can your mom pick me up?” Ryan said. “My dad’s out.”

 

“Yeah,” Spencer said. “She’ll take all three of us over to my grandma’s. Trevor and I are at my house right now.”

 

“Cool,” Ryan said. “See you then.”

 

“Yep. Thanks, Ry,” Spencer said, and then hung up. As soon as she did, Ryan grabbed all of her stuff and started hiding it. She wasn’t sure if her dad ever went into her room while she was out of the house, but she didn’t want to risk him finding any of her writing. It was too personal. 

 

She grabbed her guitar and her wallet and then rushed out the door to sit at the end of the driveway. The sun had set, but it was still warm out. Ryan didn’t mind waiting. It was better to wait out here than inside. Her dad was less likely to yell at her here, where people could hear.

 

Ryan looked back up at her bedroom window. She took a deep breath. Her stuff was fine.  _ She’d  _ be fine. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed, I really appreciate it!


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